Piece by Piece
by tider58
Summary: Brittany and Santana are raising Britt's 16-year-old sister after the death of the Pierce parents. Woe and angst and Brittana goodness ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**In keeping with the spirit of many of the Future Brittana stories I've read, I'm going along with the headcanon that Future Brittany and Santana are married and living in New York. Britt co-owns a successful dance studio; Santana is a lawyer. Brittany's parents died in a car crash a year ago, and she and Santana are now the legal guardians of Brittany's 16-year-old sister, Ashley (name also borrowed from general headcanon). Here we go.**

* * *

By the time Ashley's buzz had worn off to the point where she could think clearly about anything, it was coming up on one o'clock in the morning. The party had still been going hot and heavy, and she'd had to ditch her friends without a goodbye in her rush to get home. She walked, because it was only a few blocks, and halfway there she stopped and threw up in the gutter. She'd never been a drinker, and until a few months ago the most she'd ever tried was three-fourths of a strawberry-kiwi wine cooler that she found in the back of the Pierces' refrigerator after a New Year's Eve party. The new kids she was hanging out with, though. They liked to drink, and they liked to party, and Ash liked to forget things. So the combination seemed to make sense. Unfortunately, that didn't make her any less likely to puke her guts up after a couple of cups of whatever was in that red punch.

Her sisters were going to kill her. (It had been a long time since she'd thought of Santana as anything but her sister; she'd grown up worshipping her as Brittany's friend, then girlfriend, and at some point she just became another big sister to Ashley.)

Breaking curfew for the third time in two weeks was bad enough, but when Ashley had finally thought to check her phone she'd seen a total of _seventeen_ missed calls and texts from both Brittany and Santana. This time she might have even succeeded in pissing Britt off, which wasn't actually that easy to do.

She was fumbling to get her key in the lock when the whole structure pulled right out of her hand and she went stumbling across the threshold. Catching her balance gracelessly, she looked up to meet two pairs of angry eyes.

"Hi," she said, going for the casual approach. "What are you guys doing up?"

"Save it kid," Santana snapped, slamming the door behind Ashley. She fixed Ash with a glare and pointed toward the living area. "Grab a seat." Her dark eyes flashed fire, and Ashley knew the look well enough not to respond with the smartass remark that was dancing on the tip of her tongue. When she hazarded a glance at her sister, Brittany was frowning, her arms crossed, clearly displeased.

Ashley heaved a dramatic sigh and went to flop down on the couch. "Can we make this fast? I'm tired."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brittany hold a hand up to Santana, who had opened her mouth to unleash what was probably going to be a sizzling tirade of Spanish threats. So Brittany was going to take the lead on this one. Interesting.

"We've been worried sick," Britt said, the natural softness of her voice not to be confused with gentleness; she was obviously not happy. "Where were you?"

Ashley looked at her hands. "At a party."

"Were you drinking? How did you get home?"

"Of _course_ she was drinking, Britt; _look_ at her," Santana threw in. "Where was this party, huh? I want names."

"San," Brittany said quietly, and her wife reluctantly conceded, stepping back to let Brittany continue. "Answer me, Ash."

"Yeah, I drank some. Everybody did. I walked home."

"This late? By yourself? Why didn't you call us to come get you? Isn't that exactly what we talked about before?"

"Oh, you mean last time I went to a party and got shit-faced and your wife there yelled at me for an hour and grounded me for two weeks? I didn't realize we had actually _talked_ about anything that time."

"Watch yourself," Santana said, stepping forward warningly.

"I'm just saying," Ashley continued, "that calling you guys is like the ultimate last-resort move. When it's life or death and no in between. Come on, Britty, did you ever call Mom and Dad to come and get you from a party when you were drunk?"

"We're not Mom and Dad, honey," Brittany started, and Ashley's mouth said her next words before her brain could prevent it, and she knew it was mean and petty and she said it anyway.

"Exactly! You're _not_ and you never _will be_ ," she spat. "So why don't you stop acting like it? Just go to hell and leave me alone, both of you!"

Brittany looked stung, her mouth closing on whatever she had been about to say. Ashley took the moment to get up from the couch and start toward her room, but a hand around her upper arm stopped her from making it more than a few steps. She didn't turn around, but Santana yanked her close and unleashed a Lima Heights-worthy verbal beatdown directly at the back of her head.

" _Because,_ like it or not, we are legally responsible for your bratty, obnoxious, self-involved, eye-rollingly angsty little teenage ass until you turn eighteen, and we are not going to screw over your parents' memory by letting you self-destruct, no matter how hell-bent you seem to be to do it. So you throw all the mean little digs you want to at me, you tell me how much you hate me, how I'm not your real sister, I'm nothing to you, and you wish Brittany and I would get divorced or I would get pushed onto the subway tracks so I'm not around to cramp your style anymore. You say whatever you want to say to me, Ashley; I can take it. But I'll be damned if you're going to speak to Brittany that way. _Ev_ er. Now go to your room and cry about how mean I am and how unfair life is, wake up to your horrible, horrible hangover, and _then_ , mija, _then_ we're going to sit down and discuss a few things."

Ashley was glad Santana hadn't made her turn around because her eyes had abruptly filled with tears and she suddenly wanted to apologize to both of them, but she couldn't let herself. So when her sister-in-law released her arm, she went straight to her room and slammed the door and fell facedown onto the bed. She could hear them talking, sharp-sounding dialogue exchanged just beyond her ability to distinguish actual words. She reached blindly for her earbuds on the night table, fumbled to plug them into her phone, and cranked her music up until it physically hurt.

* * *

Santana saw Brittany flinch when Ashley's door slammed like a gunshot in the late-night stillness. She took a breath and reached for her wife to comfort her, but Brittany pulled away.

"Why did you have to do that?" she asked. "You didn't have to be so hard on her."

"Hard on her? Are you kidding? Baby, that was nothing. She can't keep this up; it's dangerous and she's doing it to get a rise out of us. She's going to keep testing the limits until we show her that we won't be pushed any further. That's what teenagers do."

"But she's _not_ just any teenager, San. She lost her parents."

Santana's tone softened and she ran her hands gently over Brittany's bare arms. "I know that. And that makes it even more important for us to stand our ground. If we give her enough rope, she'll hang herself."

Brittany's eyes widened, and Santana shook her head hard, realizing how bad that sounded.

"Figuratively, Britt. I just mean that after a major loss like that, she needs structure. It's up to us to give her that. Also? Baby, you lost them, too. She didn't corner the market on grief."

Brittany chewed on her lip for a moment, then met her wife's eyes directly. "She's my baby sister, San. I hate seeing how much she's hurting and not being able to do anything about it."

"I hate it too. Remember when she was little, when we first got together and she was so happy and so proud every time we let her go anywhere with us? We were like celebrities. We'd take her for ice cream and she would have stars in her eyes. Or that time we let her come to a glee club rehearsal? I think she felt like she'd stepped into her favorite storybook."

Britt laughed at the memory of an eight-year-old Ashley perched on the edge of the piano in the choir room, swinging her legs and watching with wide, star-struck blue eyes as the glee club performed one of their Regionals picks.

"She told Rachel she had the same tights at home," Brittany said.

"And she won Kurt over by telling him she thought he had the prettiest voice next to you and me."

"She had a little crush on him."

The girls were quiet for a bit, both smiling slightly at the memories. Finally, Santana took Brittany's hands in her own and squeezed until her wife met her eyes. "That little girl is still in there, Britt. She's growing up and she's hurting and she's making stupid mistakes just like we did when we were her age. She needs us now just as much as she did then. More. But right now she needs us to be more hardasses than rock stars. And if you can't do that, then you be the rock star and I'll be the bitch."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," Brittany said with a playful, affectionate little smile.

"I _love_ being the bitch," Santana said, leaning in to kiss the smile before it disappeared.

"And I love you. Bitch, rock star, and all."

"Let's go to bed."

* * *

 **What say you? Does anyone want more? Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**_...8 years earlier..._**

Crouched behind the sofa in her flannel Hello Kitty pajamas, eight-year-old Ashley Pierce was alarmed. She was alarmed because the two people who were sitting on the couch behind which she was hiding were upset, and because those two people were her favorite two people in the whole entire world. And because Santana was _crying_ , and Santana was the toughest person _ever_ , so if she was crying, whatever had happened was _bad_.

"It's going to be okay," Brittany repeated soothingly to the backdrop of Tana's soft sobs. "I promise, it's going to be okay."

"Why can't she understand?" Santana cried. "Why does it have to be so hard? Don't we deserve to be happy?"

"Of course we do, honey. And we are. She'll come around."

"I don't think so, Britt. I really don't."

That's when Ashley popped up from behind the couch. "Who's being mean to you?" she demanded. Both of the older girls jumped, startled.

"Ash! What are you doing up?" Brittany asked, pressing a hand to her heart. "You scared me!"

"Who's being mean to Tana?" Ashley repeated. "I'll kick their ass."

"Don't say ass," Brittany scolded distractedly. "Go back to bed, Ash; this is grown-up stuff."

"You're not grown-ups," Ashley pointed out, then turned to the other girl. "Tana, why are you crying?"

Santana finished wiping traces of mascara from underneath her eyes and managed a watery smile at Ashley. "I'm fine, baby girl," she said. "I'm gonna be fine, don't worry about it. Britty's right; it's late and you should be in bed."

Ashley scowled. "Someone made you _cry_ ," she said, unwilling to be swayed from the issue at hand. "That's not okay. That's what you told me when that bitch in my class Caroline was being mean to me."

"That was different, Ashy," Santana said, taking a deep breath. "And don't say bitch either. God, the mouth on you; your parents are going to ban me from the house."

"Come on, Tana, you gotta show them how it's done in Lima Heights," Ashley insisted. "You gotta show them what happens when you mess with Santana Lopez."

"All right, Ashley, that's enough. Bed, now. Santana doesn't need this," Brittany said, and the slightly sharp edge to her voice surprised Ashley, who was used to nothing but gentleness and patience from her big sister.

Santana noticed the look of hurt that passed across Ashley's face, and she sighed. She couldn't bear either one of the Pierce girls to be sad, no matter how she was feeling. She leaned over and planted a kiss on her girlfriend's lips and then stood up. "Okay, come on, munchkin. I'll tuck you in."

"San, you don't have to—" Brittany started.

"We'll be right back."

Santana scooped up the little blonde girl and slung her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Ashley squealed in delight and giggled her way up the stairs. When Santana deposited her on her bed and sat down next to her, Ashley grew serious again.

"Who hurt you?" she asked.

"My abuela."

"Your … your grammy?"

Santana smiled sadly. "Yeah. She doesn't like the idea of Britty and me being girlfriends."

"Well that's dumb!"

"It's how she feels; what am I gonna do?"

Ashley sat up tall and grabbed both of Santana's hands in her small ones. "You're going to tell her that it's your life and you'll love who you want to love. Britty makes you happy, right? And you make her happy. And the two of you together makes ME happy. So we all win! If your—abu—abwel—"

"Abuela," Santana supplied.

"If she can't deal with that, then she's the one who's going to miss out, Tana, because you're the _best_."

The older girl's breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled once more as she studied the open, earnest, innocent face of the little girl who looked so much like her sister. "Nah," she said, pressing a finger to Ashley's nose. "I'm third. You and your big sister already claimed the first two spots."

Ashley smiled and let Santana pull her into a hug.

* * *

 _ **...now...**_

"Morning, sunshine," Santana greeted, nudging Ashley's door open with her toe and carrying in two steaming cups of coffee. "How's the hangover?"

Ashley groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. "Go 'way, Santana; it's too early."

"It's almost ten, and you're lucky Britt insisted that I let you sleep in. When I used to piss my parents off, my mom would get me up at the ass-crack of dawn just to be a bitch." She sat on the edge of the bed and placed one of the coffee cups on the girl's nightstand. "Come on, sit up. I even brought you coffee. How's that for better than you deserve?"

"You're not here to talk, are you?" Ashley's muffled voice came from under the pillow. "Talking will make me hurl."

"Well, I like to do most of the talking anyway, so that works out okay."

"I don't feel like listening, either."

"Too bad. Come on." Santana pulled the pillow off the younger girl, who groaned again and covered her eyes against the light.

"You look rough, kid."

Ashley ran her hands over her makeup-and-tear-stained face and tried unsuccessfully to smooth down some of her blonde tangles. "I feel worse."

"Aww, my poor Ashy," Santana said, smirking. "You know what would make you feel better?"

"What?"

"Not to have gotten wasted last night."

"Ha ha. You're so funny, Tana."

"I speak the truth."

"So, are you going to ream me out again?"

"I beg your pardon? That doesn't sound like something I would do."

"Oh my God, Santana, why must you make jokes while I'm dying?"

"It's called payback. And it's fun."

Ashley sat up with grunts and groans worthy of an arthritic senior citizen and then reached for the coffee cup on her bedside table. "Seriously, how long am I grounded for?"

"You think it's gonna be that easy, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"We tried the grounding thing and clearly you didn't learn anything from it."

"Oh, so I'm off the hook, then. Awesome."

"Get real, Mini Pierce. You're not even almost off the hook. But I'm not just going to dole out a sentence and let it go this time. You scared the hell out of us last night, mija."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Santana raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "You forget that I was your age not that long ago. You also forget that I sorta helped raise you, and you may not be related to me by blood, but you're nothing if not your Tana's girl. So I know when you're feeding me a line."

"I'll be more careful next time."

"Yeah, well, that one I actually have to believe, because if you pull this again, Ash …"

"I won't."

"All right. So now that school's out, you're going to have a lot of time on your hands, and Britt and I don't like that. Not with the way you've been acting lately. So we've decided you'll come to work with me. Be my assistant."

"What? No!"

"Yeah, I'm kinda not asking. This is in lieu of grounding."

"This is indentured servitude! This violates my human rights!"

"Oh my God, with the melodrama. You'll live. I've had several assistants, and almost all of them have survived."

"How long are we talking?"

"Well, you would have been grounded for three weeks if we'd gone that way, so I'm going to say three weeks. After that, if you decide you want to stay, I might toss in a little incentive."

Ashley cocked her head, suddenly slightly interested. "You'll pay me?"

"If you're a good assistant. If you show me you can be trusted. And if you make really good coffee. That last chick made the worst coffee ever. She's the one I killed."

Ashley smiled and took a sip of her coffee. "I'll consider it."

Santana patted her knee through the covers and stood up, fixing Ashley with her no-nonsense expression. "You start tomorrow."

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 **Heyyyyy, beautiful people! Thanks to all of you who followed, favorited, and reviewed! Pretty please, keep it up; I am a shameless review whore and will write for kind words. It also keeps the ideas flowing. (P.S. There will be more Brittany next chapter, I promise. I wanted to establish more of the Santana/Ashley dynamic.)**

 **(P.P.S. If you like this story, check out my one-shot from Santana's POV, "Lies Like This," in my profile.)**

 **(P.P.P.S. Brittana is endgame.)  
**


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